Lady From the Mountains
by unhappychildhavingfun
Summary: Enjoy :) I'll update as much as possible.
1. Chapter 1

"I can see your light on under the door," the older woman said irritably as she leaned into the doorway of the dimly lit room. Her hand resting on the doorknob, she sighed at the wide eyed child sitting up in his bed which was so large that he barely took up as much space as his own pillow. The lamp beside his bed casting a warm gold glow on his face.

"I can't sl..."

"I know you can't sleep. The same thing happens every time I let those silly friends of yours come over." She stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her, tightening her shawl around her as she made her way to the bed. "They rile you up and fill your head with ridiculous stories, and then you're up all night staring out your window. It's not healthy..."

"I like the night."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She sat on the edge of the bed and raised a gentle hand to comb through the dark curls on the top of his head. "I know you do. But I do, too, and I don't want to have to spend it tending to a young man who should have been asleep, already!"

"Mama, what do you know about the Witch of Willow?"

The boy asked the question, confidently. His wide, brown eyes searching hers for a glimmer of knowledge or familiarity. Mama's back stiffened and she placed her hands in her lap. "Oh, and is this the latest tale Argus Brown planted in your little head?"

"He's not the only one. Everyone knows about it."

"Who's everyone?" But the boy didn't respond. He continued to stare, patiently waiting for her answer. The stare down went on for a few seconds in silence until Mama shifted uncomfortably. Clearly he wasn't going to change the subject until he was satisfied.

"...Alright, what have you heard about the 'Witch of Willow'?"

A toothy grin spread across his puffy cheeks. "She's a mean old hag. And she lives in a rickety old cottage at the top of Willow Peak. She's lived there for centuries, doing black magic and twisted, gruesome rituals for who knows what!" He leaned forward, his voice just above a whisper. "And do you know how she's stayed alive for so long? It's because of what she eats. They say if you ever see a poster in town for a missing child... it's because of the _witch_." He nodded, his eyes wild with excitement and a touch of fear.

To his dismay, Mama slapped her knee and threw her head back, cackling so loudly that the spiders in their webs crawled back into their hidden corners. The boy frowned and climbed to his knees, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, which only made her laugh harder. "Mama, I'm _serious!_ Is it true?"

She let out a howling exhale and wiped her eyes with her thumb. "I tell ya, that story gets funnier every time I hear it."

"So you know about it?"

"Boy, of course I know about it, it's a folktale. It isn't _real."_

_"_How do you know?" He sat back down and cocked his head. "Have you been up there?"

"Well no, but you're telling me of all the people that have hiked to Willow Peak, no one has found an old rickety cottage? Or at least brought back a picture of some sort?"

"Nate Crowley has a picture!"

"Oh, does he now." Mama rolled her eyes and stood, clearly having had enough of this conversation.

"And _maybe_, those who have found the cottage have never lived to bring back evidence! Did you think about that?"

"No, I didn't think about that." She replied, dully. "Son, please don't let this consume you. It's just a campfire tale used to rake in tourists, much like the things they say about our family. And even worse, the story is insulting." She pursed her lips and brushed her silver hair over her shoulder, leaning down to tuck him under the thick quilt. "Now, goodnight." She turned off the lamp. The only light in the room was the ray of cool moonlight shining through the window and falling in a puddle on the hardwood floor. She kissed his forehead, tapped his cheek with her finger and headed towards the door.

"But what if she _is real, _Mama?"

She looked over her shoulder and smirked, "Then I guess you better not go looking for her, or you'll disappear, too. It's a two hour trek up that mountain. It's not witches I'm worried about, it's weirdos... don't get curious, boy. You've killed enough cats." She opened the door and took one last peek at the pouting child. "Te amo, niño hermoso. Goodnight, Gomez."

After the door was shut, he waited to hear the footsteps slowly fade out of earshot. He threw his covers off and hopped out of bed, skittering to the window. He folded his arms on the window sill and rested his head, gazing out at the night. There in the distance, sitting right under the full moon, was Willow Peak.

•••

"_Slow down_, _Gomez!"_

"Keep up!"

"My legs _hurt_!"

"Shut up, Nate!"

"We're so _close!"_

Dodging quickly through the trees in pitch darkness were three boys. Each holding flashlights with backpacks strapped to their shoulders, huffing and gasping as they tried to keep up with their leader. Following a dirt path, Gomez glided along with athletic ability, followed by Argus Brown, Gomez's first best friend who he had met back in Swamp Town Elementary. Argus was a stocky looking boy who had always been right by Gomez's side no matter what daring task he took on. Argus kept glancing back at Nathaniel Crowley, who kept pointing his flashlight at every sound he heard and throwing a fit with each spiderweb he wrapped himself in. The Crowley family had been good friends with the Addamses before the boys were born.

"Guys, stop! Stop, _stop! I can't breathe!" _Cried Nathaniel, followed by a shush from the two others. He came to a halt, throwing his backpack on the ground. Small and lanky, Nate usually hated these adventures, but would never let the boys exclude him. Gomez and Argus stopped and turned, shining their flashlights on him.

"Come on, we're almost at the top!"

"I told you to bring your inhaler..."

"I did! You just won't give me a chance to _take it!" _Said the boy, angrily, as he took his inhaler from a zipped compartment in his backpack and puffed. Argus put his hands on his knees and looked at Gomez, waiting for him to determine their next move.

"Can you believe that we climbed all the way to the top of Willow Peak? At _night! _No one else would dare," Argus said, triumphant but breathless at the same time. "No one would believe it."

"This is a dumb idea, guys..." Nathaniel managed to say between puffs. "We're gonna get our asses kicked."

"It's okay! Mama thinks I'm staying at Argus's house, and both of your parents think you're at mine. We'll climb through our windows at dawn and they won't have a clue! Argus, let me see that picture again." Gomez took the old photo from Argus and shined the flashlight on it while the boys crammed together to look. "Where did you get this from, again?"

"From Mr. Stevenson! He took it himself when he came up here."

"Mr. Stevenson is batshit..." Nathaniel took the picture to get a closer look.

"Which means it's totally real!"

"I can't even see anything, it's all fuzzy."

"Look right there!" Argus placed his finger on the black and white photo. "In the trees. See that figure?"

Gomez took the photo and held it up to his nose and squinted. A tall black figure could be made out standing among the gray trees. The eerie image sent chills down his spine. Suddenly, the snap of a stick made the boys jump and shine their lights in all different directions.

"...Okay... well... let's go to the top and look around and if we don't see anything we're leaving." Nathaniel shoved his inhaler back in his bag. "We're almost at the end of the path, anyway."

"You do know that it's about time to go off-path..." Gomez shoved the picture in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"_What?!" _The boys stared at Gomez in horror.

"If people have been hiking up this place for years and never found a cottage, then it has to be hidden."

"You're crazy if you think I'm going in these woods at night!"

"Nathan, we brought knives..."

"Like that makes it any better! Look how dark it is, you couldn't even see a bear!"

"It's not the bears you gotta worry about, Nate," Argus sneered and walked towards him. "It's the Witch of Willow. You know, I hear she runs around the forest at night... stark... naked... all bony and wrinkly."

"That's not true." Nathaniel puffed out his chest but continued to step back at the same time. Argus shrugged.

"That's what they say. And that she has a face pointed like a crow. And talons for fingers...that's what she uses to slice open our backs and scoop out our livers." He continued to corner Nathaniel, who was nothing short of trembling. "And then she..." then Argus's eyes darted right above Nathaniel's head. He gasped and grabbed Nate, shoving him against a tree directly behind him, "LOOK OUT!"

Nathaniel screamed while Argus and Gomez laughed. He whimpered and took off his backpack, hurling it at the boys with all his strength but they quickly dodged. "_You guys are dicks!"_

Gomez continued to laugh, clutching his stomach. He then heard a low rumble that made him stop. All three boys looked up at the rustling leaves of the tree that Nathaniel was shoved into. Nathaniel swallowed and slowly reached for his backpack when a sudden surge of bats dived out of the tree, swarming the boys. Squeaks, screams and hollers echoed through the mountain as the boys scrambled to get away. As Gomez ran in whatever direction he thought he could see his friends through the storm of black wings, one bat swooped low and knocked his flashlight out of his hand. Darkness immediately engulfed him. He could hear the batteries rolling in different directions. Panicked, Gomez dropped to the ground, his hands searching wildly for the batteries but all he could feel was his flashlight. The squeaks of the bats had grown faint as the last few flew away. Still searching, his hand touched something cold and slimy and he immediately retreated his arm. He looked around. He had never experienced a darkness like this... not even the moon could be seen through the trees. A rustling close by made Gomez jump to his feet. He instinctively pointed his flashlight although all he could see was blackness. Complete silence... no hoots from the owls, no bats, no cicadas... although he remembered hearing them before. Even the breeze had stopped.

Gomez stood for a moment, closing his eyes. If he could get his heart to stop beating so loudly, he thought he should be able to hear Nathaniel hyperventilating or crying somewhere near by. They couldn't have gone far... Silence. Stillness.

The snap of a stick behind him sent him bolting forward. Running as fast as he could with hands in front of his face, he didn't worry about where he was going. At any moment he expected to run full force into a tree but didn't care as long as he was far away from whatever he could feel. And he could feel it getting closer. He couldn't tell if the sticks snapping and leaves crunching were from his own feet or someone else's. He yelled once his hands hit something solid and he felt the pressure of his left wrist snapping right before he fell on his side. He groaned and clenched his teeth, holding his hand while intense pain radiated from his fingers all through his arm. He rolled over on his back and tried to breathe, pain and fear flowing through him all at once. His wrist going numb, he lifted his foot to touch whatever he had run into... it was harder than a tree. He moved his foot a little to the right - it was wider than a tree. Once he slowly stood up, keeping his left arm close to his chest, he used his other to touch the surface in front of him. He was running his hand over what felt like cobblestone, and it seemed to go on forever. He then felt an indentation and was now touching a glassy, smooth surface. A sound of running feet grew intensely loud behind him and he yelled, ducking down to cover his head.

"_Come on! _We're leaving!" Argus grabbed Gomez's hand and began dragging him out of the woods.

Gomez looked back. Argus's flashlight allowed him to quickly see what he had run into; it was a stone cottage.

• • •

"Did you hear it? The screams?" asked a soft, pitchy voice from across the dark room. The golden haired girl slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room to where another girl was knelt down in front of a window, only her eyes peaking above the sill to look out. She stood behind her, keeping her distance. "Did you? It sounded close... should we wake mother?... Morticia, what do you see?"

She didn't take her eyes off the window. Softly, she whispered, "It's a boy."


	2. Chapter2

"Alright, sir, that's quite enough," she cooed as she scooped the brown recluse spider off the window sill with her finger, securing him in her palm. "Mornings are for working, not for wandering." She carried the creature to the corner of the room, cradling him close to her chest. Stepping onto a wooden chair, she lifted the spider up to the ceiling where he latched onto a glistening web. "Now don't give me that pout, these cobwebs won't spin themselves." She pouted her lips and blew small kisses to the spider, cooing words of encouragement. She watched in awe as the spider's legs began to work gracefully, spinning, cutting and connecting the delicate strands of silk.

"How important you are in this world... do you even know it..."

"_BREAKFAST!" _The bedroom door swung open with a _thud__, _shaking every loose item in the room. As the chair wobbled under her feet, Morticia gasped and pressed her hands against the wall, desperate to steady herself. Once everything settled she closed her eyes and leaned on the wall, waiting for her heart to slow down. The woman at the door giggled and spun around, her hands on her waist. Her long yellow hair landed over her shoulder.

"Look at _this! _Finally finished. Made from that _darling _white lace uncle got me last Christmas!" The bell-sleeved, form fitting dress had a modest v-neck and a skirt that touched the floor, with white satin ribbon tied at the waist. "My best work yet, wouldn't you say so?" With a mouse-like squeak, she clutched the skirt of the dress and waltzed across the floor.

"Isn't it a bit early for you..." Morticia held her stomach, still slightly heaving and carefully stepped off the chair. After adjusting herself she finally looked up. "Oh... that is absolutely _exquisite _on you! Oh, Ophelia, _look_ at you!" Ophelia shrieked, joyfully, taking her sister's hands. The women laughed and Morticia cupped Ophelia's face, squeezing her cheeks. "Oh, you're perfect! Come here, let me fix that hem." She took her hand and lead her to the bed and sat down, turning Ophelia around so she could see the back of the dress. She reached into a small pouch at the foot of the bed and took out a needle and scissor, placed the needle carefully between her teeth and began working on the puckered seam at the waist.

"Thank you, love. You are the master seamstress, after all. But I do believe I'm catching up!" She smiled and waved her arms, mesmerized by the flow of the wide sleeves.

"Don't undermine yourself, Ophelia, it's beautiful. And it fits like a glove, which is something I always seem to have trouble with."

"Naturally, because your waist is the circumference of a lily pad."

Morticia purposely poked Ophelia with the needle, making her jump and squeal.

_"_All done_."_

"_Viper.." _Ophelia pouted and rubbed her bottom, making her way to the oval mirror. Modeling the gown for herself, she curtsied and giggled. "Oh, _yes..._Thank you, dearest. _Now!" _She spun around, sharply, a twinkle of excitement in her green eyes. "Hurry up and get dressed for breakfast. I have something special to show you both."

Morticia raised her brow as she tucked her sewing tools away, "Oh? I think I'll take my time, thank you. After all, _you _stalled my morning ritual." She smirked and knelt down on the floor beside a massive book and opened it to a marked page. Ophelia rolled her eyes and caught sight of Morticia's desk, where a leather bound journal sat open, surrounded by many pencils, erasers and charcoal pieces. Smiling, she slowly made her way to the desk.

"Oh my... looks like confident little Tishy has something special to show us, _too!" _She snatched the journal and darted out of the room.

"_Ophelia!" _She dropped the book and chased after her sister, who could be heard giggling down the hallway. With the snap of Ophelia's finger the door slammed in Morticia's face, slowing her down. She groaned and threw it open, continuing down the hallway. Once the two reached the kitchen they were greeted by a tall, thin woman in a black cloak, raven hair with a single gray streak pulled back in a braided bun. She grinned at the sight of the two rushing through the door.

"_Ah, _my glowing moon. My shining sun..."

"Morning mother!" The two simultaneously kissed their mother's cheeks before continuing their quarrel.

"Guess what, momma, talented little Morticia has something to show youuu!" Ophelia chanted melodically as she dived and dogded her sister.

"Give it back you irksome little _gnome!"_

Ophelia gasped and waved her hand, sending a breadroll from the table right to the side of Morticia's head.

_"Stop it!"_

_"_Take it back!"

Morticia raised her arms and flexed her hands. The sink behind Ophelia sprayed water in every direction, sending Ophelia screaming to her mother.

"Are you _mad? _Mother, she _knows _I just made this dress, look what she tried to do to me!"

"How is it that you're the oldest and still such a _child?" _Morticia hissed and reached once more for the journal.

"_ENOUGH!" _the older woman echoed. Hester Frump's powerfully stern voice never failed to leave her daughters frozen right where they stood. She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, not once glancing at the women on either side of her. After an agonizing moment of silence, she finally spoke.

"Is this what you've reduced yourselves to?... Is this the behavior you choose to proceed with? You've been given miraculous gifts of life, bodies to exist and learn from on the physical plane, _food _and water to enhance those gifts... and this is how you choose to show grace, gratitude?"

Morticia ashamedly looked down at her feet.

"Or is this a reflection of me? Have I failed you as a mother? Teacher? Pray, tell me so, for I will promise to never speak again!" She raised her hand as a symbol of promise. Looking at her daughters drooping faces, she took both of their hands and put them together.

"_Witches, _do not _fight_. Witches do not throw stones, they do not badger each other with insults. You forget that the energy you put out in this world comes back to you tenfold!... What is our principle?"

"_An it harm none, do as ye will," _the girls recited, drearily. The woman brought their heads together, kissing them both on the top of the head.

"We are all we have. We must look out for each other. Celebrate each other, _love _one another. That is all I ask of you. Now, Morticia, clean up that water. And Ophelia, since you're always so fond of surprises, why not start by minding your own business for once." She took the journal from Ophelia but couldn't help but look at the open page as she did so. It was a lifelike charcoal portrait of a child's face.

"Morticia, who is this?"

"Well..."

"It's a boy Morticia saw out her window." Ophelia smiled and folded her arms. Morticia met her proud face with an icy glare. Hester looked at Morticia with concern.

"When was this?"

"Like, twelve years ago."

"_Ten," _Morticia looked back down at her feet. "I... It was the middle of the night and we heard sounds... and when I looked out the window I saw him." Her cheeks flushed. She still couldn't bring herself to meet her mother's eyes.

"Well. It's beautiful, moonbeam, but merely the product of a dream." She closed the journal and gave it to Morticia. "Not a soul can find this house or even touch it, not with the veil I have on it. Now go clean that water." She waved her hands, shooing her daughters away and went back to her task at the stove. Morticia hugged the journal and trudged to the sink.

"Wait, _wait! _Before we continue with these _grand _morning festivities," Ophelia said, sarcastically, opening a drawer and taking out a pair of scissors."I have something to show you both!" She held the scissors in the air to make sure the two women could see them, and that they were indeed watching. Raising her free hand, she held the petals of one of the daisies that sat on the top of her head.

Ophelia was born with the unique trait of stems growing out of the top of her head, which would in time bloom into healthy, large white daisies. When the winter came, they would wilt and die, not to return again until the springtime. This was apart of Ophelia's being as a witch who followed and thrived with the cycles of the Sun. Taking a deep breath, she swiftly snipped the daisy. Morticia and Hester gasped and began to panick as Ophelia continued to snip the rest, letting them fall to her feet.

"What on Earth are you doing_?" _Hester rushed to her, but Ophelia held up her hand. She placed the scissors on the counter and put her hands together, closing her eyes. Morticia and Hester exchanged confused glances.

Her eyes shut tighter. Suddenly, in rapid time, the bare stems began budding and one by one bloomed back into the fresh, large daisies as if they had never left. She opened her eyes and smiled at her mother and sister, raising her arms and bowing. They gasped in amazement, applauding and congratulating.

"When did you know you could do that?" Morticia rushed to Ophelia, poking at the flowers on her head.

"This morning! Isn't it the cutest? Now when they wilt, I don't have to wear a stupid hat and wait for them to grow back!" She giggled and flicked one of the daisies. Hester's face beamed.

"This is a sign of complete intunement and being one with your body. Congratulations Ophelia... This makes me all the more interested in reading your essay."

Ophelia's eyes widened. "... Essay?"

"Yes, your project I assigned for the week. Morticia, do you have yours?"

"Yes, mother." Morticia left the kitchen. Ophelia looked at her mother, nervously.

"But-but mother... you said we were on break starting Saturday..."

"I said your break will start Saturday after you've handed in your essay about what you plan to offer the world with your gifts... you didn't forget, did you?"

Ophelia stammered as Morticia entered the kitchen again, holding a thick stack of paper tied with a black ribbon. "Here you are, mother. I wrote about my bond with nature and how I plan to use herbology and animal husbandry to heal the damage that man has done."

"How very like you, I look forward to reading," Hester tucked the stack of paper under her arm and turned to her other daughter who was chewing on her fingernails. "Ophelia?"

"I'm... not quite finished."

"You haven't even started, have you?"

Morticia lowered her head and quickly made her way back to the sink. She knew what was coming and it was never a pleasant event. Hester sighed and took a step toward her daughter. Her voice was calm but cold.

"I am very disappointed..."

"You're always disappointed in me."

"And should you be so surprised? This is just one of many assignments I've asked of you that you simply did not care to do. The assignment was even about your favorite subject: _yourself."_

Ophelia bit her tongue. "I'm sorry, mother, I..."

"I don't want your excuses, you had a week. I give you these assignments not to bore or busy you, I want you to apply and practice what I've taught you! I want to know you are ready for this world..."

"I _am _ready..."

"No. You're not, Ophelia. Clearly. And with the way you handle responsibility, I doubt you ever will be. And _stop _looking at the stove, look at me. A watched cauldron never bubbles."

"A watched woman never lives." Ophelia glared at her mother. Morticia winced. Hester breathed deeply, exhaling through her nose.

"..._Your_ break will begin next Saturday. After you've completed your essay." Hester started toward the door.

"_What?! _But you can't, next week is..."

"I know very well what next week is. And you should have thought of that when you decided to ignore your responsibilities. Congratulations, your breakfast is cold." Hester left the room, leaving Ophelia standing there with her mouth agape. She looked over at Morticia who was knelt on the floor next to the puddle of water, staring at her sister, sorrowfully. Ophelia dissolved into tears and ran to her bedroom, Morticia quickly following behind.

"Ophelia..."

"How _dare_ she!" Ophelia paced rapidly back and forth in her bedroom, tears streaming down her face, knocking over anything she saw from books to trinquets. "Telling me I'm not ready to leave, I am _more_ than ready to leave! Never asks how I feel, never says she's proud! Did you see what I did in that kitchen? I am _powerful!" _

_"_Of course you are!" Morticia closed the door. "She just wants you to be safe. She's only doing what's best, you know..."

"What's _best? _This is what's _best_ for us? We're trapped here, Morticia! We never get to see any people, or have any friends... I've never even seen a _boy!" _

_"_Uncle Fester visits..."

Ophelia rolled her eyes, "Look what she's doing to us! All cooped up up here... We're bats with clipped wings!"

Thunder roared overhead. Ophelia stopped pacing and walked over to the window. Hands on her hips, she stared at the falling rain tapping the glass.

"... Consider yourself lucky, Morticia. Because you _did _see a boy that night. I know you did because I lifted the veil."

Morticia's mouth fell open, "_You __what?"_

_"_I heard the screams. I _wanted_ someone to find us. All I had to do was think about it," her fingers tapped at her hips.

"You do realize you put us all in danger that night!"

"The point is, lifting a veil of protection is advanced work. I _am _ready for this world. And next week on All Hallow's Eve... I _will _be going out."


End file.
